


The Scent of You (A Scent So Sweet Remix)

by Kenda1L



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Insecure Keith (Voltron), Keith And Romelle Are Siblings And Act Like It, M/M, Mall AU, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Pining Keith (Voltron), Sheith Remix 2020, Shiro Is A Hottie, The Opinions Of The Characters Are Only Sort Of Those Of The Author, but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenda1L/pseuds/Kenda1L
Summary: In which Shiro is the hottie in the Scent Shop, Keith pines from afar, and Romelle is so done with his shit.Omegaverse Mall AU, written for Sheith Remix 2020.***Keith sets his head down on the counter and despairs of his life. The hand that pats his head and scritches his scalp is completely at odds with the voice that says, “Really, Kitkat? Again?”
Relationships: Keith & Romelle (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 180
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	The Scent of You (A Scent So Sweet Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AfterUtopia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfterUtopia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Scent So Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028755) by [AfterUtopia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfterUtopia/pseuds/AfterUtopia). 



> This is a remix of AfterUtopia's story, [A Scent So Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028755), for the [Sheith Remix 2020 challenge](https://twitter.com/sheithmix). It's probably the cutest A/B/O fic I've ever read and was such a pleasure to re-imagine. Please make sure to read it as well!

Keith sets his head down on the counter and despairs of his life. The hand that pats his head and scritches his scalp is completely at odds with the voice that says, “Really, Kitkat? Again?”

“He’s just so hot, Melly,” he whines. He’s being pathetic. He knows he’s being pathetic. He just doesn’t care. “How’m I supposed to go over there and introduce myself when he’s all that—” he waves a hand toward Specialty Scents, the perfume shop a few stores down from Castle Altea, ‘“—and I’m all... this.” He turns the hand on himself, gesturing vaguely at his entire being. 

Romelle snorts inelegantly. His twin’s hand tightens in his hair, and then she’s pulling his head up so she can fix him with a glare that is equal parts fond and exasperated. “Keith, I love you dearly but if I have to list all the reasons you’re a great catch one more time, I will spike your nasty protein fake-shake with Ex-Lax.”

Keith makes a face. He still remembers the last time she’d made that threat and he’d tried to call her bluff. Never again. “My shakes aren’t gross,” he mutters instead of acknowledging her proclamation. “They’re healthy. Not all of us live on Starbucks and Auntie Anne's.”

“No, some of us live in the GNC,” she says tartly. “Now could you please get your face off my nice clean countertop? I'm trying to work here.” Keith looks around the empty exotic trinkets and curiosities shop pointedly. She rolls her eyes and flaps a hand. “We’re in off hours,” she defends. The store always seems to be in _‘off hours’_. Keith often wonders how Coran even stays in business amongst all the other cookie-cutter mall stores, but the man never seems particularly worried and he treats Romelle well, so Keith is grateful to him.

Keith pulls his sleeve over his hand and apologetically wipes at the imprint his cheek left on the cherry-wood countertop. He tries not to peek too obviously out the storefront windows, but it’s hard when he can see the form of the tall, wonderfully muscled man who works there. The man is currently turning a smile like pure sunshine on a petite girl who practically radiates ‘omega’. He watches the scene play out with a frown. It’s one he’s witnessed many times since he started coming to bother his sister during breaks from The Cheesecake Factory. 

First, the omega will giggle, leaning into the man’s space and touching his arm. Then, when the man smoothly steps back and pivots under the guise of picking up some scented lotion or potion, they’ll change tactics, dabbing a sample on their wrist or, if they are particularly bold, on their neck and offering for him to smell. The man will say something; the omega’s expression will change to one of surprise, and sometimes pity. The man will laugh and shrug with a chagrined look on his face. 

Sometimes it will end there, the omega will step away, and the man will ring them up. More often, they will step even closer to him with a little pout of concern or understanding. From there, the reaction is always the same: they frown in confusion, say something to which the man nods, and then they step back, visibly losing all interest. The man’s smile turns strained and a little resigned, but he still rings them up with admirable cheer and waves them goodbye as they scurry from the store and he turns to the next customer.

The pattern is all too common and endlessly confusing to Keith. As far as he’s concerned, the man seems like the quintessential alpha. He’s everything high-school Keith dreamed of being before finally hitting his growth spurt in college.

As expected, the red-faced omega exits the store not long after. “There has to be something wrong with him,” Keith says as he watches her go. “No one can be that perfect and still manage to consistently scare prospects off like that.” He almost hopes there is; it would at least give Keith an excuse for why he still hasn’t approached the man, no matter how often he’s psyched himself up to do so. 

“Maybe he smells,” Romelle offers idly, leaning forward on her forearms so she can watch as well.

Keith shakes his head. “He works in a scent shop. There’s no way they would hire him if he stinks.”

Romelle makes a noise of assent. “STD? Bad teeth? Maybe he’s just really, really boring. Or arrogant. Or stupid. Maybe he’s already dating someone. I’ve got a pretty good idea how we can find out, though.”

Butterflies immediately take flight in Keith’s stomach. “Don’t,” he chides sharply. He knows his sister and how much she likes to meddle. “This is my thing. I’ll deal with it.”

“Maybe I’m curious too,” Romelle pouts. “You’re not the only alpha who doesn’t care about secondary gender, you know.”

Despite the fact that he knows—he _knows_ —she’s just riling him up, possessive jealousy still wells up in him. It’s ugly and he hates it and it goes against everything his Mom and Pop had ingrained in him about not conforming to gender stereotypes. It doesn’t matter. He still finds himself growling at her in warning. 

His posturing doesn’t affect Romelle at all. Peals of laughter fill the cramped little shop as she throws her head back and nearly falls off her stool in her amusement. “Calm down, oh mighty alpha. I’m not going to challenge your claim.”

Keith recoils, scrunching his nose in disgust at the very thought. “I don’t have a _claim_ over him,” he snaps, appalled.

Romelle rolls her eyes even as she continues to snort out little bursts of laughter. “I know. Do you?” For all that she’s teasing him, there’s a thread of disapproval in her tone. Keith slumps and nods wearily. “Good, just checking. But Keith…” Keith glances up at her through his eyelashes, unwilling to face her head-on. “If you do want a chance with him, you should make a move soon. Eventually, one of those pretty little omegas isn’t going to shy away and you’ll lose your chance.”

“I know,” Keith says heavily, because he does. It haunts his pre-sleep musings at night. “I will, soon,” he promises Romelle, and himself. He will. Soon.

***

He doesn’t. Instead, he dilly-dallies and spends lunch with an increasingly fed-up Romelle and ignores his co-worker Pidge’s snickering when he scurries in a panic to double-check on his tables every time he sees his crush at the cheesecake takeout counter. He finds out through his friends that the other man’s name is Shiro and that he’s not, in fact, arrogant or rude or anything other than completely pleasant. He certainly doesn’t have bad teeth, as Pidge haughtily informs him.

“If I had any interest in sex or romance, I’d want to date him just for his smile,” she says when Keith not-so-subtly pumps her for information. “Just ask him out, for God’s sake. You two are disgustingly perfect for each other. He even likes that bland ass no-carb cheesecake you do. It’s a match made in taste-budless-gym-bro heaven.”

“It’s not that bad,” Keith says for the hundredth time.

“No, Keith,” Lance says with a sad shake of the head. “The only people who like that atrocity are people who hate themselves.” 

Keith sends him a dirty look. “Sorry for trying to avoid diabetes at fifty, _Lance.”_ He’s getting awfully tired of defending his eating habits, especially when he’s the only one in their group who knows what a vegetable looks like before it’s fried. 

“Well?” Pidge says pointedly, breaking Keith free from his internal grumblings.

“Huh?” he says intelligently. He doesn’t appreciate the look Lance and Pidge share between themselves.

“You gonna shit or get off the pot?” Pidge asks bluntly. 

Keith takes a deep, fortifying breath. “My love life is no one’s business but my own,” he tells them, firmly enough that even Pidge backs off. He shakes it off in time to smile brightly at his next table and pretend he actually cares about their ridiculous list of substitutions. The question follows him home that night though, echoing through his head as he stares at the darkened ceiling and contemplates Shiro’s smile.

***

Keith waits impatiently for Romelle to finish her clean up before handing the shop over to Coran’s goddaughter, Allura. He’s anxious to get home; he’d promised Pop to help him with the barbecue tonight and he still needs to get to the store to pick up vegetables for the kabobs. 

Finally, she finishes counting out the till and joins him at the entrance. She slips a hand into the crook of his elbow as they leave. “Oh, by the way,” she starts, far too casually, “I need to make a quick stop before we go home. Allura’s birthday is next week and I need to pick up her present.”

Keith bites back a groan. _Shopping_ and _quick_ are not words that go together when it comes to Romelle, but he still has to try. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. You know Pop gets weird about finishing everything at the same time.” 

Romelle waves him away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Her assurance leaves him more worried, not less. “Okay,” he drawls dubiously as they walk arm-in-arm deeper into the mall. Their path will lead them right past Specialty Scents, where Keith can just see Shiro leaning casually against the register counter, talking to one of his co-workers. Keith zeroes in automatically on the obscenely nice bubble butt so perfectly encased in a pair of chinos. He wonders what the man would look like leaning against Keith’s dining table, or maybe kitchen counter, hands pressed flat to the surface and ass popped out enticingly as he looks sultrily over one shoulder at Keith. The image is very distracting, so much so that Romelle manages to take him completely by surprise when she takes a sharp left turn and drags him into the scent shop. The cacophony of scents nearly overwhelms him.

“What are you doing?” Keith hisses frantically. He digs his heels in but his sister is annoyingly strong from her weight-lifting classes, so when she jerks him forward by her grip on his elbow, he has to go with her or risk tripping and face-planting directly in front of his crush.

“Keep cool,” she hisses back, plastering a huge smile on her face as Shiro and his co-worker notice them. Shiro pushes away from the counter and approaches them with a greeting and smile of his own.

“I’m going to kill you,” Keith murmurs through the side of his mouth. He schools his face into a blank expression just before Shiro stops in front of them a polite distance away, hands clasped behind his back.

To Romelle’s credit, she immediately draws the attention onto herself, asking about the line of scents designed for betas advertised in the shop’s windows. It appears she wasn’t entirely lying about looking for a present for Allura. Shiro focuses his attention on her as he leads her over to a display and starts to explain how the perfumes are meant to subtly mimic alpha and omega pheromones. Keith lets the words pass over him, paying attention to Shiro’s tone and cadence instead. His voice is a little higher than Keith expected but very pleasant, rolling over Keith’s skin like liquid. Keith focuses on the display so he won’t stare too intensely.

He thinks he’s managing fairly well, considering. Then Romelle shoves her wrist under Keith’s nose and he startles, inhaling automatically. The smell assaults his nose and he has to fight not to push her away.

“Here, KitKat, how does this one smell?” she asks too sweetly.

Keith gives her a warning look. She knows how sensitive his nose is. He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head emphatically. It smells like she’d bathed in rut pheromones for a week. He rubs at his nose in an effort to get the smell out. Shiro smiles sympathetically. “That one’s our strongest concentration,” he says. “If I’m honest, it’s not a fan favorite. Here, this should help.” Shiro picks up the little pot of scent neutralizer sitting next to the sample bottles and offers it to him. Keith takes it wordlessly, chancing a small smile of his own before practically shoving his nose into the pot. He sighs with relief as the faint, citrusy scent of suppressant takes over.

Romelle rolls her eyes and turns to Shiro. “So, which one is your favorite?” Keith grits his teeth and sniffs the neutralizer again to hide his scowl. She’s deliberately dragging this out just to torture him.

As Keith plans his revenge, Shiro chuckles with a hint of bashfulness, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t really have one,” he admits. “I’m nose-blind.” Keith pulls his nose out of the neutralizer slowly. Well, that explains the pitying looks Shiro always seems to get; a lot of people consider being nose-blind to be a real handicap.

“Oh, me too! Well, like 95% at least,” Romelle says, bouncing a little. She leans in a little. “Is it just me, or do people get super awkward whenever you mention it?”

Shiro grins, pleasantly surprised. “Not just you,” he commiserates. “Especially since I started working here.”

Romelle winces. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” She nudges Keith, raising her eyebrows. _Say something, idiot._

Keith purses his lips and narrows his eyes. _Stop it._

_Make me._

“Uh, if you want, I can describe them to you?” Shiro offers hesitantly, interrupting their silent conversation. Keith cringes inwardly. They forget sometimes that not everyone is used to their creepy twin connection; to outsiders, it just looks like they’re staring silently at each other like complete weirdos. Shiro’s smile has gone professionally plastic as his gaze skips back and forth between them. “I’ve gotten pretty good at making suggestions based on what you’re looking for,” he adds.

Keith pinches her surreptitiously. _Don’t you dare!_

She jabs fingers into the ticklish spot on his side. _Coward._

He twists his torso out of her reach, biting his tongue against a giggle as he scowls. _You are going to pay for this!_

Romelle smiles beatifically. _Bring it, little brother._

“Or… I could get Hunk over here to give you a hand?” Shiro is starting to look like he’d rather be anywhere else, the corners of his lips edging downward in a way that almost seems a little disappointed, but is no doubt just extreme awkwardness.

Romelle finally takes pity on Keith, or more likely on Shiro. She turns back to Shiro and shakes her head. “Oh, no need. Keith here is practically a bloodhound, the lucky jerk.” Keith would strongly debate that; he’s starting to get a headache from the nauseating mixture of synthetic smells around him. The urge to just shove the scent neutralizer straight up his nose is growing.

Shiro glances between them, gaze pausing on Keith for a long moment before returning to Romelle. He nods and steps back. “Sure, no problem. My name is Shiro, so if you need anything, just holler.” He quickly retreats, giving them their privacy. Keith slumps, thankful for the end of the awkwardness but also bizarrely disappointed to no longer be in Shiro’s presence.

“Pathetic.” Romelle whirls on him, hands on hips. “Did you suddenly contract laryngitis? Turned into the Little Mermaid? You literally didn’t say a single word that entire time!” Keith mulishly clamps his mouth shut, just to be a stubborn little shit. Romelle’s hands twitch, like she’d throw them up in frustration if it wouldn’t draw even more unwanted attention. “Please tell me you’ll at least say thank you when we’re done. You might think silent brooding thing is a viable seduction tactic, but rudeness is attractive to no one.”

“Of course,” he says, offended. Their mom raised them right; she’d give him an earful if she found out he’d neglected basic courtesy. Romelle’s eyes sparkle mischievously. He sighs. “Brat.” 

“Love you,” she carols. She offers up another scent for him to try, blessedly on a swatch paper this time.

He softens despite himself. “Yeah, yeah, love you too.”

“So? Is this one okay?” she asks, waving the sample in his face.

Keith sniff delicately shakes his head. “Allura hates florals.” Romelle eyes the swatch contemplatively, then shrugs and drops it in the little trash receptacle attached to the table before turning back to the display. She taps her chin as she peruses the little sample bottles and their poetic but ultimately useless descriptions. Keith sighs. This is going to take forever. He pulls out his phone and glances at the time pointedly. “Melly…”

Romelle ignores him, deliberately putting her back to him as she peers at the display. Keith pinches the bridge of his nose and pockets his phone again.

It’s as he’s shoving the phone further into his back pocket that a new scent manages to break through the perfume miasma. He sniffs curiously, trying to identify it. When he does, it hits him like a ton of bricks. Omega pheromones. And not the synthetic kind, the _aroused_ kind.

Keith glances around the shop. He hadn’t seen anyone come in, nor had he heard the bell on the door ring. It only takes a moment to confirm that they are the only customers at the moment. He looks over at the counter, where Shiro’s large, cheerful looking co-worker is busy doing something on the computer. The scent definitely isn’t coming from him, which means…

Keith turns to find Shiro and finds the man staring straight at them _(him?)_ with dark, intense eyes. Shiro straightens when he notices Keith looking back. He hurriedly drops his gaze back to the display he's organizing, but he can’t hide the way his face goes bright red.

Keith turns away slowly, mind reeling. Is it possible that Shiro isn’t an alpha as his physique suggests, or even a beta, but actually an omega? It would certainly explain the way potential omega suitors responded to him. Keith hadn’t smelled anything from him earlier though, despite his overly sensitive nose. Either he’s using suppressants, or he has remarkable control over his scent. Romelle has a habit of overcompensating, so it's possible. Either way, you’d probably have to get pretty close to him to notice.

Unless he’s attracted to someone, apparently. Keith watches Shiro out of the corner of his eye for a moment longer before turning back to Romelle and nudges her firmly to the side. He scans the scent descriptions, breathing deeply to take them in as he does so. He quickly picks a lotion with a lemon-neroli-ginger mix he knows Allura will enjoy, combined with alpha pheromones her boyfriend Lance will enjoy. He gives a cursory sniff to make sure he’s right, then all but shoves the bottle into Romelle’s hand.

“Here, this one,” he says gruffly. “I need you to get him back over here.” He has to be sure. 

Romelle looks askance at him but gamely waves Shiro back over. “Do you have this in a perfume?”

Keith goes light-headed with the sudden wave of interested omega pheromones that block out everything else. Shiro is, without a doubt, an omega. He is also, without a doubt, attracted to Keith, judging by the way his eyes seem drawn toward Keith like true north. Keith straightens his spine as Shiro stutters something about checking stock before practically fleeing to the back room. Confidence floods Keith, not because Shiro’s an omega—though Keith is going to have to take a serious second look at his preconceptions because the idea had never even occurred to him—but because the other man’s attraction is so strong that the scent _still_ drowns out the surrounding perfumes.

“Oh. My. God,” Romelle whispers, eyes wide. She turns to him and grabs both his hands in her own. She’s nearly bouncing with excitement, and if even _she_ can smell it with her barely functional nose, then he can’t be imagining it. “That was for you, right? Never mind, of course it is. He’s been watching you since we walked in. I’m going to be your best man, right? Seriously Kitkat, if you even _try_ to give it to someone else, I _will_ cut a bitch.” 

Her over-exaggerated pout is obnoxious, but it still somehow boosts the excitement curling in his own stomach, sending effervescent bubbles through his veins. He bites away his grin. “As if I’d give anyone else the honor. 

“Not that it’s going to happen,” he hedges quickly. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. A single encounter where they haven’t even spoken to each other doesn’t exactly guarantee compatibility, much less a long-term relationship. For all he knows, Shiro could just be looking for a roll in the hay.

He really hopes not. The thought of getting the man in bed is appealing, but Keith is not a _‘one and done’_ type of guy. With any luck, Shiro isn’t either.

Keith breaks out of his thoughts as Shiro returns from the back room. There’s a flush riding high and blotchy on his cheeks, emphasizing the odd scar over his nose. Keith wonders about the story behind it. The romantic sap in him hopes he’ll come to know it. 

“Sorry, we’re currently out of stock,” Shiro says with a small apologetic smile. He gestures toward the register counter. “Hunk can help you put in an online order though. Or you could come back in a week or so, we should have more then.” He clears his voice, eyes sliding inexorably to Keith and then away. 

Romelle opens her mouth, but Keith cuts her off. “We’ll order online, thanks.” 

Romelle looks askance at him but plays along, hugging his arm to her. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Shiro’s scent mellows once more as his gaze flicks down to his and Romelle’s interlocked arms. His expression goes bland and wooden, a customer service shell. “Great. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope, you’ve been super helpful!” Romelle says in a chipper voice. “Thanks! Come on, Keith.” She practically drags Keith toward the counter. “What’re you doing?” she hisses as soon as they are out of Shiro’s hearing. “That was a perfect opening to come back!”

“Allura’s birthday is on Tuesday,” he reminds her patiently. "It will be too late by then." She purses her mouth, but has to concede. She still looks rather disgruntled, however, so he throws her a bone. “Besides, like hell I’m gonna wait a week before making my move.”’

Romelle muffles a squeal against his shoulder. “About damn time!” He nudges her in warning as they approach Shiro’s co-worker, Hunk. The man has a nice smile and cheerful demeanor as he helps Romelle order Allura’s perfume, but Keith hardly notices because he can still feel Shiro’s gaze heavy and intoxicating on his back, even after the ring of the door’s bell signifies another customer has entered the shop.

When it comes time to pay, Keith hands over his debit card. It never hurts to appear generous. 

“You didn’t have to buy that for me, Keith! I could have done it,” Romelle says. Her smile is sharp and her eyes are daggers. 

“I’m happy to,” he says, cocking his head in confusion. What’d he do wrong this time?

Romelle sighs, heavy and put upon. “Good job,” she murmurs against his shoulder as Hunk rings them up, “If he didn’t think we were dating before, now he definitely does.” Keith blanches; he hadn’t even thought of that. Romelle pats him on the head condescendingly, then lets go and shoves him not-so-gently. 

“You’re the best big brother ever!” she says in a voice meant to carry. 

A second later, there's a sharp spike of omega pheromones. Keith widens his eyes and dips his head gratefully. _Thank you_. 

Her smirk tells him that she will be collecting later, but he doesn’t even care. It’s worth whatever she asks of him if he actually manages to score a date. 

Behind the counter, Hunk’s eyebrows are nearly meeting his hairline as he looks back and forth between Keith and—Keith assumes—Shiro. “Here’s your receipt,” he says, handing over a slip of paper. 

Keith takes it from him, then, steeling his nerves, he asks the other man, “Do you have a pen I could borrow?” Hunk’s eyebrows crawl even higher, if possible. He wordlessly hands over a pen with the store’s name and number on it. 

Keith bends over the counter and scribbles a quick note on the back of the recipe before his courage can desert him. 

**To the cutie who smells better than anything in this store. Dinner?**

**-Keith**

**(###)###-####**

He folds it and hands it back to Hunk. “Could you give this to, uh, him?” he says, gesturing subtly at Shiro with his head. He doesn’t want to give away the fact that he already knows Shiro’s name. That might come across as creepy and that’s the last thing he wants right now.

Hunk rolls his lips inward and huffs out an amused breath. “I’ll make sure he gets it,” he says as he tucks it into one pocket. “But, uh, you should probably leave now, before he scares away any other customers.” 

Romelle wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders and tugs him in roughly. “Will do, handsome. Maybe we’ll see you again soon.” She winks flirtily at Hunk before using her hold on Keith’s shoulders to guide him firmly out of the store, giving the surprised looking Hunk a little wave as she does. Keith barely notices; her grip is the only thing keeping Keith from floating away on cloud nine.

They manage to make it to the car before the question bursts out of him. “D’you think he’ll call?”

Romelle clasps her hands atop the roof of the car and sets her chin on them. “Bet’cha twenty bucks he’ll either call or text before we get home.”

“Deal.” Keith reaches his hand across the car roof and wiggles his fingers against hers in their version of a handshake. It’s a win-win either way. Either he gets a date with Shiro, or he gets $20 to drown his sorrows with. “Can we go now? Pop is gonna kill us for being late.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome,” she gripes, but swings herself into the passenger-side. Keith experiences a swelling surge of affection for her as he mirrors her and settles in behind the wheel.

“Thanks,” he tells her quietly. He doesn’t wait for her to answer before cranking the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.

***

Keith is in the middle of choosing the perfect red pepper when he feels the buzz of his phone in his back pocket. He’s grinning giddily even before he pulls it out to read the text.

_This is Shiro. I’d love to. I’m free this weekend?_

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [kenda1l1](https://twitter.com/kenda1l1)  
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * "<3" as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments (sometimes it just takes me a while to get over my glee and figure out how to reply.)


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